


Dorm Room

by crewdlydrawn



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Sex, M/M, Multi, OTB, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/pseuds/crewdlydrawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cracktastic College AU wherein John and Barsad are classmates quite interested in each other, though John doesn't realize Barsad is already with another man and that sometimes they like a threesome, if it's just right...</p><p>**Previously Deleted</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is utter crack. All crack, no plot, just crack.

When John had invited Barsad over for the study date, it had originally been somewhat innocent. They were both freshmen and could use the extra focus before midterms—which were drawing frighteningly close. Having chatted a lot in class (both before, after, and, at times when Professor Wayne's lectures droned on and on, during) and a few times on the walk out of the lecture hall, he figured inviting the guy back to his dorm room wouldn't be too huge of a leap, especially if they both needed the cram time. There was a library, of course, and a Starbucks in its basement, but it was usually so crowded even among the stacks that it made it hard for John to focus on anything, and the Starbucks, well... it had radio and cute baristas.

So he'd offered to host since his roommate, Ross, had gone home for the weekend, and he knew from casual conversation that Barsad's room was home to three other guys who generally made a mess and a ruckus and simply never went home. Neither he nor John were much for the party scene, and though loud music and shouts drifted in muffled through the walls, it was peaceful enough to work in the small room.

John couldn't lie; he was very attracted to Barsad. He was a little shorter, a bit more built up in that frame than John, and half the time he didn't bother shaving, giving him a haze of scruff that on anyone else might have looked unkempt. On Barsad, it just looked fitting, endearing, and undeniably sexy. He didn't dress pretentiously for class, either. Whereas some of the guys were all prepped-up in their pressed khakis or slacks, polo shirts, opened-up plaids and brand-new accessories, Barsad was a simple jeans-and-t-shirt kind of a guy, often with some sort of hunting gear logo or camouflage. It was a major contrast to the kinds of people John saw in the city growing up, and it made him more interesting. Well, that and the accent he couldn't quite place, the relaxed, almost sleepy eyelids that shielded bright blues beneath them, and a distracting mouth that didn't spare much movement when he spoke but that bent wickedly when he half-smiled or smirked.

A cursory cleaning was all he managed before the knock came at his door—it was early, and he silently cursed the guy's punctuality before letting him in. They did actually get out their books and work through a few points on the study guide Professor Wayne had put out... for about twenty minutes, anyway. After that, Barsad's hand had accidentally—or was it, really?—brushed over John's as they both reached for the open textbook on the coffee table in front of them. John wasn't a scientist, he couldn't explain the zing that ran up his hand and arm at the touch that had nothing to do with static electricity, but he felt it all the same. One look to the blue eyes next to him was enough to know that Barsad had felt it, too.

In an instant, so fast he had no memory of how they'd gone from hands on a book to twisted up in each other's hair, their mouths met, lips open and tongues speared out to tangle together. They were all panted breaths and wet sounds until Barsad pulled back, making John suddenly nervous as his stomach clenched, worried he'd managed to initiate something that overstepped his boundaries. His concern left him almost instantly as Barsad's BowTech tee was stripped off unceremoniously. Grinning probably much too widely, John followed suit, drawn back to the kiss the second the cotton was clear of his face by way of a hand curled around the back of his neck and an insistent tug.

"I've been wanting you," Barsad murmured against John's mouth, licking along the line of his lips. "Just didn't know if you were interested..."

John's breath caught in a groan as a daring hand slid up the top of his thigh, fingers splayed, thumb coming to rest at the crease of his hip. "I'm interested," he got out in a rush between each press of his mouth to Barsad's, "very interested."

If he could have kept it up all night, he would have, but after a few minutes of breathless kissing they both had to pull back to get some air. One hand still at his thigh, Barsad trailed the other's fingertips down his bared chest thoughtfully, seeming amused when John shivered at the feather-light touch.

"You look nice," he commented, looking all relaxed again already when John still felt a mess. He blinked, unused to compliments like that from guys, feeling a bit of a flush spread across his cheeks and hoping it wasn't noticeable. The corner of Barsad's mouth ticked up in a half smirk, and that hope was dashed.

"...Thanks," he made sure to get out, clearing his throat and smiling a little sheepishly. "So do you." He did, too. The hunting logos were probably sincere, as Barsad had the kind of build a guy might get working on a farm or traipsing through the woods day in and day out. Though lean still, it was a rugged kind of muscle, not the symmetrical gym-born sort, and that made it a lot more attractive in John's eyes, a lot more real.

He was surprised to feel a light, teasing kiss, then, to either side of his mouth, his brow knitting in confusion.

"And it so happens," Barsad breathed in a tone heavied by arousal, his voice scratching his throat, "that I am a sucker for dimples..." His tongue flicked out to swipe at each of the dents in John's cheeks as they deepened from his slightly-ticklish smile.

With a squeeze to John's thigh, Barsad let go of him in favor of scooting back against the corner of the couch, along the way sliding out of his pants and down to silky-looking boxer shorts much too smoothly for John's own good. A plaintive sound wound out of his throat at the sight, earning a smirk from Barsad who was already sporting a fairly sizeable tent in those shorts. John hoped he was fully hard already, because, if they took this all the way, much bigger and his out-of-practice ass was going to get wrecked. Then again, with the smooth moves he'd already shown, there was a chance size had little to do with whether or not Barsad could make a wreck out of him.

Draping one arm over the arm of the couch, Barsad lifted the other invitingly, and John was much less coordinated in shucking his own well-worn khakis, but stripped down to undershorts all the same, shifting closer so he was tucked up against Barsad. The open arm slid around his shoulders, fingers tapping down over his shoulder teasingly, and John lifted his leg to hook over Barsad's in an attempt to compete in the game. It was received happily, and warm lips closed over his again, a quick, wily tongue licking at his own, across his teeth, over the outside of his mouth like it was exploring him.  

Letting the back of his calf stroke over Barsad's knee, John slipped an arm around behind him, hooking around his back to curl his fingers at his side, reveling in the feel of the tight muscles under his deceptively soft skin. John's hipbones had always cut through his muscle a lot more prominently, but Barsad's were nicely covered, smoothed, and he held his waist as he reached his other hand to rest against the tall tent between his legs. Encouraged by the throaty moan rumbling beneath his mouth, John stroked down Barsad's length, giving toying twists and teasing squeezes at the tip of him as they traded lazy kisses. He was plenty hard in his own shorts, too, even without being fondled yet. He had just begun to wonder how much of the teasing Barsad could take when he felt a growl vibrate his lips and was pushed steadily backward until Barsad was straddling his legs, pressing him down into the couch cushions.

"Yeah?" he breathed out in question, smirking at having gotten him worked up.

Barsad hummed in agreement, simultaneously reaching to the floor, into his pants pocket, and ducking his head down to mouth wetly over John's neck and shoulder, a wicked nip lighting up the skin of his collarbone.

"You're gonna have to—mm, that's nice," he paused when heated breath and a hot tongue laved over his nipple, grateful teeth weren't involved there just yet, knowing he wouldn't be able to think straight once they were. "Gonna have to let me up to fetch lube, too, 'less you've somehow got magic hammer-space in those jeans," he teased, palming down Barsad's side and over his ass, biting back a groan when he felt the muscles clench under his fingers. It would probably be a great ass to pound into, but he didn't really care much for whether or not he was topping at the moment; both were great, and maybe he could convince Barsad to switch.

Chuckling slightly as he sat up again, Barsad dangled a small squirt bottle of lube from his fingers, shaking it in amusement. "I don't fuck around," he explained, also presenting the condom John had assumed he'd reached for in the first place.

Snorting, he teased, "Well that's disappointing. Here I thought we could have some fun, but if you don't fuck arou—" He was cut off by Barsad's mouth over his, his tongue sliding past his lips and against his own. When the other's hips shifted, John found his own rising up as Barsad's cock briefly bumped against his, but it was short lived.

Barsad slid backward, breaking the kiss and winking a sleepy blue eye at him before carefully tearing open the condom package. "May I?" How mannerly. John found himself nodding quickly his permission, and, holding the open packet in his teeth, Barsad slid John's undershorts down from his waist. He eased them over his rising erection, raising an eyebrow and shooting John a look of approval at which he found himself flushing slightly. From there, the shorts were swiftly brought down his legs as he lifted them to help, and discarded onto the floor once fully off.

John couldn't help wiggling a little on the couch cushions, feeling the soft upholstery brush against his skin as he moved. He stilled enough to watch, however, as Barsad smoothly maneuvered out of his own shorts, managing to make it look almost like a dance move, not just a guy stripping off his underwear. It was incredibly sexy, and John had a little hope he'd get to see it again sometime. He was surprised when Barsad's hand slipped around him, giving him a few much-appreciated pulls before taking the packet from his teeth and rolling the condom onto John; he'd thought from the way he was taking charge it might have been his ass, first, instead.

Catching his expression, Barsad chuckled, dribbling some lube from the tiny bottle onto his fingers and shifting up onto his knees on the couch. "You look like a fun ride," he explained with a wink.

John couldn't think of a better way to have his ass than to be able to watch him take it. Watching him slick himself up was great, too: how his eyelids lowered even further, threatening to completely block out the blue of his irises; how his mouth dropped open, just a little, just enough to let out his breath in little huffs; how he rocked just slightly on his knees, bringing his face closer to John's; how his lower lip slid between his teeth for just a moment as a soft moan escaped him.

"God, you look good," he couldn't help groaning out as he watched the wanton display. Speaking to him got Barsad's focus back on John, and he was treated to a repeat performance before he gathered more lube from the bottle to slick up John's cock for him. "You're doing all the work," he pointed out, though he didn't actually feel guilty about it at all.

The corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk, Barsad replied, "I'm not opposed to some manual labor." With that, he straddled John's hips, dipping down to recapture his mouth in a heated kiss, his hand not having left its grip on his cock, maneuvering it. John pet over his thighs, his hips, grasping them and helping to guide them to the right angle as his length was guided by Barsad to the heat of his hole. It was a slow ecstasy, sliding into him, and Barsad took his time as he steadily eased downward until he was seated fully over John's hips. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth again for just a moment as John bottomed out inside of him, just a moment, but it put a fire in John's belly to see it.

He had heard the term "riding" be applied to the position, but he'd never seen it so applicably carried out. The motion of Barsad's body atop his own, the sway, the rocking of his hips, the momentum, all of it was a perfect demonstration of riding him like he meant it. He felt amazing, so snug around him, so hot inside, dragging the skin of his cock up against the sensitive head with each time he drew nearly all of the way off of him. Then he leaned back, holding onto the arm of the couch for balance, and John was able to watch the almost hypnotic ripple of his stomach muscles as he rolled his hips forward and down against John's.

It was a steady motion, but slow, methodical, and Barsad was clearly enjoying taking his time, but it was maddening as John's body reacted to the tease by twitching, his muscles tensing and wanting nothing more than to thrust up quickly into Barsad's ass, to _fuck_ him. Trying to control himself, he lasted only a few more moments before he couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing both sides of Barsad's waist firmly, he pulled him forward and, once he released the couch's arm, flipped them both over so that it was Barsad lying on the cushions, pinned beneath him. Legs drawn up on either side of him, John sighed in relief as he was able to set a faster pace, to thrust more quickly, with stronger strokes.

Not shy about taking control, but not one to push too much, he asked in a husky voice, "That okay for you?" Barsad didn't reply, at least not verbally. He smirked, and lifted up his legs up to hook his knees over John's shoulders, getting a groan of appreciation out of him. "Fuck..."

Chuckling as John managed to push his body back a few inches along the couch cushions, Barsad hauled his torso up enough to drape his arms back over the other arm of the couch. It didn't look overly comfortable to John, but he understood after a moment when Barsad was able to use it for leverage to angle his hips better, to meet his momentum. The sight was sending him hurtling over the edge. He enjoyed it for a few breaths, then leaned over him, setting his legs down around his waist instead of over his shoulders, giving his arms a light tug. Nothing even needed to be said for Barsad to wrap those around the back of John's neck, to tug him down further for a crushing kiss.

Leverage gone, John hauled him up with him, pinning his back to the corner of the couch, not releasing his mouth as he rocked into him, his hands cradling under Barsad's ass, fingers splayed over his skin. They grasped tightly, pulling him to him with each forward motion.

Barsad wrapped around him tightly, arms and legs both, snug up flush with his body, his cock trapped between their bellies, and John could feel it drag against his stomach.

“Yes,” Barsad breathed out at his ear, “just like that.”

“Need a hand?” he smirked. He was getting close, he knew, and wanted him close, too; it was better that way.

“Perhaps, if you’ve one to spare,” came the murmured reply as Barsad mouthed over the edge of his ear. His hot breath made John shiver as it ghosted over his skin.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grasping his waist with one arm around his back, the other sliding between their bodies, skin so heated and slick with a sheen of sweat. Taking the weight of him into his hold, John thumbed over the tip of him, stroking at his length, enjoying the moan that vibrated his neck. “That good?”

“Mmhmm,” Barsad hummed, grazing his teeth along the crook of his neck, out to his shoulder to bite down. The gasp John couldn’t bite back only got another set of teeth marks pressed into his skin. “I like how you sound like that, John.” The husk to his voice sounded so good as it hit his name.

“Shit…” A hiss shot out of him at the sharp clip of teeth under his jaw. “Hey!”

“You curse a lot,” Barsad said simply.

“Fuck you,” he laughed out, only more excited to feel teeth at his throat again.

“Mm, you are,” Barsad murmured cheekily below his chin.

“Yeah, yeah.” John rolled his eyes but smiled, squeezing and pumping his grip along Barsad’s cock mercilessly in return for his sass. He had to work hard to concentrate on his own movements when that damn stomach was rolling and flexing beneath him like a wave as he worked himself on John’s cock. It probably would have been wise to have put down a towel or something so they didn’t get sweat, lube or worse on the fabric of the couch, but it was third or fourth-hand anyway, so he didn’t care too much.

Less and less coordinated as he got closer to shooting off, John ground his nose down against Barsad’s neck, unable to hold back a louder moan; he’d never been the quietest fuck, he knew. At least it was muffled by the other’s body, he thought dimly, then gasped at the bite to his shoulder. Barsad had found his own way of muffling the sounds that left him, and his come shot through John’s fingers, hot and forceful, a turn-on in itself. Focusing on the feel of it, the sound of Barsad’s panting, John followed him before long, hips stuttering as his orgasm rang through him.

Catching his breath, Barsad relaxed against the corner of the couch, hands petting lightly down John’s arms as they trembled from the effort. He hated how he sometimes shook after sex, like his body couldn’t catch up to his mind that it was over, that he needed to clean up and be a man, let go. But as he started to pull back from Barsad’s hold, he was held still.

“Nn, not yet,” he breathed out languidly.

John smiled a little as he shifted to get more comfortable than he was on his knees, sliding himself out of his ass and discarding the condom on the floor—he’d clean that later—without pulling away from his arms. “You a cuddler?” he half-teased, settling on the cushion with him.

“Yes,” came the sincere reply.

“Well alright.” They sat for several minutes more before the itch in John’s fingers got to him.

“I need a smoke,” he informed Barsad whose eyebrows rose.

“Oh? They are horrible for you, you realize.”

John rolled his eyes. “Don’t start, everyone knows all about it, it’s just a habit.”

Barsad shook his head in return. “No, not _just_ a habit,” he argued, stroking the backs of his fingers over John’s cheek gently, more like a caress, making him squirm and feel the urge to pull away even as it warmed his belly. “Eventually, they will ravage you from the inside, and ruin you.”

He really wasn’t in the mood for the stop-smoking conversation, and it was dragging down his post-fuck high. “Then you’ll just have to do that first,” he teased, proud of his own cheekiness to combat Barsad’s. “But right now, I’m gonna have a cigarette.” Patting Barsad’s thigh, he gently detangled their limbs and stood to tug on his pants. After a moment’s thought, he also yanked on his shirt—no need to be completely obvious that he’d just gotten laid. “You comin’, or you stayin’ here?” he aimed back at Barsad, muffled slightly by the cig held between his lips as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

“I will stay here, if you don’t mind,” Barsad answered, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Is it alright if I clean up while you’re out?”

The thought of that tight body of his with hot, steamy water cascading down it had John biting back a groan with a fresh appetite threatening to flare up. “…Yeah,” he managed, “go right ahead.”

“You could join me, you know…” Goddamn, was that an offer. He considered it, too. Shower sex was fun. But he was dressed already, and he could feel the menthol from the cigarette’s filter already starting to tingle against his lips as he held it, and, well, maybe it was a tiny bit more than just a habit.

“God… I’m gonna smoke this,” he started, pointing toward his mouth, “and then I’m coming back here for a shower. Don’t bother getting redressed if you finish first,” he warned.

Barsad shot him a smirk as John stepped out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe he'd heard wrong, maybe it was coming from the other side of the wa—there it was again, a distinct moan, and john would have thought maybe it was just Barsad jerking it in the shower if it hadn't been followed by muffled words, a voice that absolutely did not belong to Barsad.

_What the fuck?_

Not sure if he should be worried, offended, or just plain pissed, he felt a little of all three, really, as he approached the bathroom door. This was HIS room, damnit. If Barsad was just fucking around...

Quietly opening the door, he tried to make out shapes behind the foggy curtain. There were clearly two people in the stall, a tight fit, John knew, but it didn't seem like either of them cared too much.

"The fuck?" he called out, too indignant to curb his tone, to wait for more words to enter his brain to question with.

"John..." his name was moaned out, but John found it a lot less pleasant to his ears when he wasn't the one causing the moan.

"What the fuck is going on, Barsad?" he demanded sharply, barely holding back ripping the curtain open. He still might. "Who the hell's in there with you?"

There was the sound of smacking skin, a slap, and then Barsad's voice spoke out softly but firmly. "Stop," he ordered, "I need to get out." A moment later, he was slipping out of the stall, dripping wet and fully hard.

John couldn’t help his eyes from roaming, admiring him rather automatically, skin shined with the water, cheeks reddened either from the heat or whatever he'd been up to in the shower—John stopped thinking there, not really wanting to dwell on that at the moment. They weren't a thing, not yet, anyway, despite his having thought about what that could be like eventually, but they'd just fucked, and it seemed very poor manners at the very least. And he really liked Barsad; he didn't want it to be over so fast for them.

"I'm sorry, John," Barsad began, and his tone made John expect a 'dear John' speech, only terrible applicable.

"So, what... was this some kind of a trick? You got something against me? Because what kind of a person has sex with a guy then does someone else in that guy's shower?" It sounded just as ridiculous to his ears as it seemed to his eyes.

"I wasn't expecting him, John." Barsad held up a hand placatingly; it wasn't helping.

"Well what _were_ you expecting?"

"He is my b--my friend, and he has come to visit me. He followed me to your room, it seems." The water was shot off finally, and the curtain pulled back, and god _damn_ , Barsad's friend was huge. He was tall, taller than John, but he was built like a Mack truck, completely solid, with a barrel chest and murderous shoulders. John felt his jaw drop, but he couldn't quite focus on lifting it back up as he rather openly stared.

"Jesus," he couldn't help breathing out.

"Not quite," came the amused reply from the man. His voice was deeper, richer, and had a similar accented lilt to it like Barsad's. "My name is Bane. It is nice to meet you, John; Barsad has spoken of you."

He snorted. That was ridiculous. The whole damn thing was getting more ridiculous by the moment, and was this Bane guy checking him out? Seriously? Running a hand back through his hair, he shot back, "Yeah, I'll fucking bet he was," with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"He has," Bane affirmed, "and highly. It is why I chose to visit now."

"What," he snapped, "jealous?" He sounded bitter, he knew it, but he was too pissed to care to fix it. Bitter was probably an appropriate tone for the moment, anyway, right?

"No," Bane corrected, staring into John's eyes with an intensity that frankly made him a little uncomfortable, "interested."

"What?! That makes _what_ kind of sense?"

Barsad stepped forward, resting a hand on his arm. "John, I swear I did not plan this, today, but..." he paused, considering his words, maybe. "But Bane was planning a visit after—"

"...After you'd fucked me?" John guessed, his voice flat.

"Well, yeah; I wanted you first." The tone was sincere, honest, and John didn't know what to make of the situation, felt dropped into an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"So, what... your friend here—and don't think I believe for a second that you two are just 'friends'—wants to have a threesome?" He didn't expect them both to nod and make affirmative sounds. "I haven't... I mean..." he tried to backpedal with a sarcastic smile and start again, but it didn't really work when he didn't know what else to say to replace what he'd already spoken. The situation had certainly never come up for him before. Casual sex he'd had, even a couple of damaged, messed up but longer-lasting relationships, but two people simultaneously willing and wanting to have sex with him? Wanting it enough to plan it? No, that was new.

Barsad looked understanding, patient, and John could have smacked the expression right off his face. “It’s not something everyone’s just done, John… we do not often this, either.”

“Don’t often stake out a guy to bang together, you mean?”

“Don’t often have another with us, at all,” Bane corrected.

John sighed in frustration, his hurt and anger still circulating through him. “So why me?”

“Barsad has become fond of you,” Bane began in explanation, “and that is enough for me.”

“That and I sent him a picture of you,” Barsad added with a smirk wickedly twisting his lips.

Blinking, John turned to him at that. “How the hell did you get a picture of me?” he demanded. “And _when_?”

“During class one day,” Barsad answered, amused with himself. “Camera phones come in handy.”

Well that was rather… violating. Sort of. Then again, he couldn’t really judge; he’d taken a candid or two of Barsad, as well, just hadn’t shared them with anyone else. Instead of addressing that, he ran his hand through his hair again, wishing he was back outside so he could smoke to calm down. Of course, he could. “You know what, I’m gonna go back outside, you two are gonna get dressed, get out of my bathroom, and out of my room.” He could feel the wall of anger rising up in him, cutting off all other emotions inside.

“Are you sure you want to leave, John?”

“Yeah,” he aimed back at Barsad as he started out. “I want you both out.”

“Then I will see you in class on Monday,” he spoke softly as John reached the hallway door.

“Yeah,” was all he offered in tense reply before he left, closing the door solidly behind him. Who the fuck did they think they were?

________________

When he’d gone back inside, three cigarettes later to give them time enough, to get him calmed down enough, the dorm room had been empty. They’d even straightened up, so it was as if he’d never had a romp on the couch that afternoon. With a sigh, he’d flopped down on the large beanbag chair his roommate had brought from home. It had given a satisfying crunch of the beads, and he’d let himself sprawl out on it. Maybe a nap would help, he’d thought, and had fallen asleep for a couple of hours, albeit rather fitfully. Sleep and John had never really gotten along.

When he woke up, it was with a stiff back that he barely managed to mostly fix with some stretching and cracking. No more beanbag chair for naps. With a frustrated realization that he still vaguely smelled of sweat and sex, and trying to ignore what had happened the last time someone used the stall, he showered before heading to the Starbuck’s at the center of the campus buildings.

Coffee. Coffee could fix anything. That and another cigarette. He didn’t smoke constantly, not like some guys, but a lot more when something was upsetting him.

In a nice turn of luck, his favorite barista was on shift. Selina. Girl was the hottest he’d seen on campus, maybe ever. She wasn’t a student like most of the crew, and her hours were less predictable, so he counted himself lucky to catch her there when he came in.

Walking up to the counter, he gave her his best put-on smile, and got her tolerant one in return. He hadn’t won her over yet, but he had time. Trying some more today might even make him feel better. “Afternoon,” he greeted as charmingly as he could manage.

“Hey kid,” she returned, “the usual?”

“Yeah, please.” He swiped his campus credit card while she mixed his latte, admiring the way her pants fit just right. He preferred plain, black coffee, but that took mere seconds to pour, giving him no time to talk, no time to watch her. Maybe it was in poor taste to ogle her right after sleeping with a guy, especially after fighting with one, but it was already helping his mood.

The place was pretty empty, most other people had a life on Friday nights, he supposed, so he was hoping to hang around and chat a little if it didn’t get busy. Once finished, adding the extra foam he indulged in to add five or six extra seconds to the view, he had to work not to be obvious with his stare.

“You come in for the coffee or the view, kid?”

Damn. Didn’t work hard enough, apparently.

Clearing his throat nervously, chagrinned, he took the latte with a thank-you. “Uh, both, I guess,” he added sheepishly, hoping his smile was endearing enough to get him off the hook.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, leaning her arms on the serving counter. “You look more uptight than normal today; you alright?”

Damnit; caught twice.

“Uh, yeah…” he sighed, running his hand over his face. “Just not the best afternoon, I guess.” Taking a sip of his drink, he chuckled wryly. “Really great at first,” the corner of his mouth tugged up, eyebrows flicking, “then suck.”

“Oh yeah?” she smiled, seeming intrigued. Even if she was faking, he couldn’t help feeling good that he had her attention for the moment. “What made it so great? Hot date?” She winked at him, and he felt himself flush pink at the guess, ears twitching as he looked away. “Ohh, so it was…” Checking her slender wrist watch, she clicked her tongue reproachfully. “A little early to be off from a good date, kid… guess that’s what sour-pussed your good day, huh?”

“Ah, yeah,” he winced at the repeat reaction. She was going to get bored fast if he didn’t keep himself sounding at least mildly interesting.

“So what happened? Who was he?” she asked before he could fix it.

John’s head snapped up at that, and his eyes must have looked as wide as they felt, because Selina laughed, shaking her head.

“Kid, you’re a little obvious, you know.”

No, he didn’t. “But I… I mean, I’m not…” He couldn’t get anything out past the stammer at first. Here he was trying to chat up a girl, and she already thought he was gay. And he couldn’t even really argue the point much, since he _had_ just had a date with a guy.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she mercifully staved off more stammers. “I know you’ve got a thing for me, too. Some people just go for both, you know?” There was a knowing tone to her voice, and with a start, John realized she was also talking about herself.

“…You?...”

She spread her hands. “Guilty as charged,” she answered with a sly smile, an alluring tilt to her head. “I’ve got a girl of my own, but we still play with boys from time to time.”

God, that sounded hot.

“So, what happened with the mystery boy?”

He gave her the super-condensed version of the story. None of the descriptive details, even though he wouldn’t have minded sharing some of them with her, since there were a couple of other people across the room. “So I left,” he finished, “and told them to leave.”

“Not up for a threesome?”

He blinked. “What? No, I mean, that’s not the point… that wasn’t the issue.”

Selina pursed her lips, leaning in closer conspiratorially. “Listen, kid. It’s not every day you get a chance like that without your wallet taking a hit,” she began. “You like the first guy, right? Barsad? I’ve seen him around; he’s pretty cute, with the scruffy beard and all.”

“Uhm, yeah, I do. He is… But I don’t know his friend, boyfriend, whatever they call each other.” It sounded a little bitter, and he regretted that instantly. Selina had just told him she and her girlfriend ‘played’ with guys sometimes. At least, his mind had interpreted that as threesome evidence. He had to wonder who her girl was, if she was a student, what she looked like, what they looked like togeth—fuck, he was still horny.

She didn’t look offended, at least. “How well did you know Barsad when you two got it on?”

“Well, we’ve had classes together for weeks, and—”

“No, honey,” she interrupted, “how well did you _know_ him?” It was a fair question, he just didn’t like the answer he had for it.

Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Not really that well at all, I guess.”

“So your excuse for not wanting to have a hot threesome is…?”

He snorted quietly. “You serve coffee here or advice?” Both seemed to be of good quality, he noted begrudgingly.

Selina spread her hands again as she stood back up away from the countertop. The front bell rang as a group of students walked in, and he knew it meant she’d have to get back to work. “Sometimes it’s double-duty, kid,” she answered. “Good luck, huh?” With a wink, she left him to tend to her customers, and John headed back outside.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking around campus helped clear his head a little, cool his blood and let him think the whole thing over. Regardless of Bane, he felt bad about kicking Barsad out the way that he had. If he was telling the truth about not having expected the guy to show up, then it had probably seemed rather cold from his side of things. On the other hand, he’d chosen to fuck his friend in John’s shower, and that was still extremely rude, at the least. Still, he didn’t want to leave it like that until Monday, on such bad terms; he did really like the guy. Maybe there was a second chance there, after all.

The walk lasted longer than the coffee, and when he tossed the empty cup into a trash can, he looked up, startled to discover where he’d wandered to without paying attention. Decker Hall; Barsad’s dorm. How about that. He probably wasn’t there, though, if his roommates were there and still being noisy. It was still worth a shot to check, he decided, and managed to catch the locked doors as someone was coming out.

Of course, once inside, he realized he had no idea which room was Barsad’s. There was a security desk, and the guard was one he’d seen around and chatted with before, so maybe…

“Hey man,” he greeted, smiling the friendly smile he’d practiced for years at the boys’ home. Yes, good, recognition.

“Blake,” the guy, Andy, greeted in a friendly tone. “What’s goin’ on?” Andy was a pretty relaxed guy, working his way through like John would be if he hadn’t gotten a spot for a Tate Foundation scholarship after aging out of St. Swithin’s. The guy did custodial work in some of the lecture halls, and John was pretty much the only person around who talked to him other than students complaining. Maybe that could get him a favor now, though that certainly hadn’t been why he’d ever done it.

“I’m actually trying to find my friend… He has a textbook of mine, and we’ve got a test on Monday…” It wasn’t true, of course, but it could have been, and it seemed the best excuse to use. “He lives here, but I don’t remember his room number,” he finished hopefully.

“Ah, yeah, that can suck,” Andy nodded. “What’s his name?”

Yes. “Barsad. Joshua Barsad,” he added, knowing that even though Barsad went by his last name, it would probably be good to give both.

“Oh yeah, I know him,” Andy smiled. “Nice kid. Fourth floor,” he told him. “Four-seventeen, if memory serves.” Checking a list on the wall behind him, he nodded. “Yeah, 417.”

“Hey, thanks, Andy. I owe you!” he called out over his shoulder as he was buzzed into the resident hallway.

“Don’t mention it,” Andy called back just before the doors clicked shut.

Fourth floor. 417. Taking a deep breath and trying not to think about how he didn’t really know what he was doing, John made his way up the stairs, checking each door until he spotted ‘417’ on a faded metal panel. Go time. He reached out to knock his knuckles against the wood, but paused when a shout rang through the wall. Well, just one shout wasn’t much to wor—there was another, and then sounds of a scuffle, of furniture being knocked over.

Fuck knocking. Thankful that his door wasn’t locked, John burst inside, heart pounding, ready for a fight if necessary.

There were several items on the floor, books, a chair on its side, but most surprisingly, was Barsad and Bane, locked in a battle of grappling and growling. John had seen domestic disputes, hell, he’d lived in them, but he had the immediate sense upon reclosing the door behind him that this wasn’t just a fight. For one thing, they were both naked. For another, there was a feral look to Barsad’s eyes that he’d never seen before. It… was kind of a turn on, he had to admit to himself.

As he stood there, turned on as he was shocked and confused, Bane got a good hold on Barsad, flattening him on his belly on the floor, covering his smaller form with the weight of his own, going for a coil of rope even as Barsad let out growls and curses and… rather violent threats.

“I will _gut_ you,” he snarled as his hands were forcibly bound behind his back. Hands secured, Bane flipped him over, sitting heavily on his legs when they started to kick at him and looping the rope around his chest a few times, making a snug pattern. The tie had been simple, even John could tell that, though the way Bane fingered over the rope, the way it slipped through his hands, made him think he was much more experienced than the current hold evidenced. He’d clearly done this many times before.

Once settled, the rope let drop to either side of Barsad’s torso, Bane ran his hands over his skin, shh-ing at him fondly. “That’s it, I have you now, lamb…”

Barsad started to curse him out again at that, but after struggling for another few moments, he suddenly settled, eyes closing and taking a deep breath that apparently calmed him.

“There,” Bane soothed.

“What the fuck did I just watch?” John fairly squeaked.

Barsad’s head snapped over towards the door, though Bane didn’t even turn or flinch. “…John?” he spoke thickly, as if he were in some kind of high.

“Yes, your friend has been standing in the doorway for several moments, actually. Got himself an eyeful.” Bane sounded far too amused for someone that just got walked in on tying up his… boyfriend, lover, friend, whatever the term should be, but if he’d known John was there the whole time, then he was already handling it differently than anything John would have expected.

“You came back?” Barsad asked, looking over at John, his eyes almost clouded over. Then he smiled, and looked much more lucid, his body relaxing underneath Bane, settling. John didn’t think he could ever settled that completely into ropes wrapped around him. It really was a sight, though… the way the cord sank into his sides a little, sat tight against his chest… it managed to compliment his form quite well—something he hadn’t ever expected he’d think about. “Does that mean you’ve reconsidered?” he asked from the floor.

“I… uh…” To be honest, he wasn’t even one hundred percent on whether he’d come there to make good with Barsad only or… Fuck it, no, he’d come back hoping for a threesome. “Yeah,” he started over, clearing his throat past the husk of being turned on again—still. “Yeah, I changed my mind.” Quirking an eyebrow and looking around the space, he added, “Where are your roommates?”

Bane chuckled slightly, standing, giving John another good look at the mass of his frame, his muscles as they flexed, his goddamn shoulders, not to mention the thick cock hanging casually half-hard between his legs. “They were rather easy to persuade to leave for now.”

John snorted. “Yeah, with a look at you, I bet.” He hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. Too late. Bane was already looking way too amused as he made his way over to John.

“Are you intimidated?” he asked almost innocently.

John blinked at him. “Uh, yeah; who wouldn’t be?”

That got him a soft chuckle before Bane reached to touch his shoulder lightly, much lighter than he would have expected after what he’d just witnessed. He flinched and scolded himself for it. “It will not go the same for you,” he promised with a nod of his head in Barsad’s direction, “if that worries you.”

Barsad had sat up then, watching them with a gleam in his eyes. John assumed most people who tied up their partners meant for them to _stay_ tied, but Barsad was already working off the ropes with careful motions of his arms and shoulders, finally tucking his wrists under his bottom in order to get them in front and work off the last of the ropes there. If Bane had known John was there, maybe he hadn’t gone through with as much as he had planned… there was a _lot_ of rope still on the floor, after all. John bit back a groan just at the thought of Barsad’s tight form coiled with the smooth rope. That was apparently a kink he didn’t know he had. Interesting.

"Yeah, no, I’d hope it wouldn’t be like that. I mean, good for you guys and all, if that’s what you like..." he had to stop there, before he knew he’d just start stammering incoherently.

Bane was merciful, tugging at his shoulder to get him over towards Barsad and effectively cutting him off. He followed him over, sat on the low gaming chair that served as the best furniture in the room. It was really no wonder that Barsad wanted to use someone else’s room to study in, even if that hadn’t been the entire plan, after all—better places to sit, in addition to less noise. The second he sat down, Barsad crawled over him, pulling him into a kiss that was a lot more open, more showy, he realized after a moment. Showing off for Bane, no doubt. God, he’d never been in this position before, being between two people like that, being shown off. And he wasn’t even being touched by two people yet. That ended quickly as Bane came up behind Barsad, sliding his hand into the other’s hair, and then a second hand into John’s, gripping firmly at the strands, giving a small tug to them that sent a jolt straight to his cock. So it was going to be like that.

Barsad let him pull back to breathe, and he found himself looking up into the sharp grey-blue eyes above him, found them searching into his own. "Are you willing to let me guide you, John?" He asked, still holding onto both of their hair, but stroking along Barsad’s scalp, as well. It looked so familiar, so personal, and so gentle. The gentle was what threw him off a little. Bane was huge, really, clearly incredibly strong, and just as clearly in charge of their relationship, but there was also apparently a softness to him, as well, and it was hard for John to reconcile the two.

"Uh... guide me? I mean, I know how, you know?" He chuckled, smirking nervously, trying to appear calmer than he felt on the inside. It didn’t end up working, and Bane just gave him a patient look that made his stomach twist, made him want to correct himself, to fix it, whatever it took to get that look gone. And what the hell was that? How could he want to please a stranger?

That just wasn’t normal, he knew that much. Yet he did, he definitely did. Way to be normal, John.

"Have you ever been with more than one person at a time, John?" Bane asked, trailing a hand down the back of John's neck.

"No... I mean... no." Smooth, John, smooth. It only got him a smile, and he couldn't help watching with some fascination the crooked teeth set inside the larger man's mouth. They suited him, honestly, as did the scarring on his face, the little imperfections littering his lips, though it was obvious that they had once been quite perfect.

Barsad eased up onto the chair with John. "Then let us guide you through it, hmm?" he asked, smiling reassuringly. He couldn't help feeling warm with that smile aimed at him. It was perfect, too, just a little bit crooked to one side. They certainly made quite a pair.

Sighing, knowing they were right, that if they'd done this before, even if it wasn’t that often, it would be wise to let them guide the action, he gave a nod in agreement, trying not to feel like an inexperienced kid. He'd just had sex with Barsad earlier, after all. Still, they had a way about them, when together, that made him feel rather out of his league. "Okay," he agreed, "so what first?"

Bane gave an approving stroke over John's hair, and he shivered beneath the contact, even as he scolded his body for doing so. "First," Bane began, "I would like to get more familiar with your body." Well THAT sounded... good. "May I?" He reached for the bottom hem of John's shirt then, and he nodded, let him lift the fabric up, helped get his arms out as it was taken off over his head. He was at least halfway to being even with them, after.

"Want the rest?" Damnit, why was he already asking what Bane wanted him to do? He felt confident enough in himself that he was reasonably good at taking charge, but he hadn't done one dominant thing since he'd started. There was just something about the guy, and not just his size, either, John had taken charge with a muscle-bound guy before, even taller than this one, easily as broad, but he'd just seemed to like that, get excited by it. Of course, the guy had been a bit of a freak. But a fun kind of a freak. A damn fun kind of a freak.

Bane nodded his affirmative, and John stood long enough to strip the rest of the way. He immediately felt Barsad's hand on his ass, grasping, stroking. It felt good, and he leaned back into it, let him roam over his skin. That was short-lived, though, as he let go mere seconds after starting, and John was instead pulled toward Bane. There was just a moment's pause, and then the guy's hands were running over John's skin, lightly here, firmly there, nearly pinching and pulling at other spots. It was kind of startling, but felt amazing. The pads of his fingers were calloused, rough, but he still managed to touch gently with them. Their catching slide over the skin of his torso, however, was a different story. There, they were like fire, lighting him up inside.

Bane rumbled his approval. "You have a lovely body, John."

John snorted. "I wouldn't call it lovely," he argued. Lovely wasn't a term he'd readily apply to the male form.

Clicking his tongue, Bane shook his head. "Oh, I would."

"And I would, as well," Barsad chimed in.

He made a face at that. "You weren't being like that before," he complained. "Didn't say anything like that."

He felt the press of lips at his shoulder, hot breath as Barsad spoke. "I thought it," he explained. "You do have a very nice body, John... it's lovely. There is nothing wrong with that."

John didn't agree, but it wasn't worth fighting over when warm hands were spread over his ass, when he leaned into the firmness of Bane's body, his broad chest and solid stomach, thickly-muscled arms circling him.

It didn't take long for his hands to start working their way over his skin, his hair, rubbing across his chest, nails catching on his nipples and drawing sharp breaths from him. The guy hadn't been joking about wanting to get familiar with John's body.

After a few moments, he was pulled along with Bane to sit on the floor, Barsad joining them beside Bane. John ended up maneuvered into Bane’s lap, and he wasn't even sure he really wanted that; except that he fit, his body fit against Bane's as he was drawn back to lean against him, and it felt like just the right place. And then those arms were around him again, keeping him firmly in place while Bane touched over him, his thighs, his stomach, everywhere but right at his cock, and it was steadily becoming a maddening tease.

"C'mon," he complained mildly, "touch it."

He didn't like the chuckle he got in response. "Soon," Bane promised. "You are an impatient one, aren't you."

"Only when I'm getting teased," he assured. Soon wasn't soon enough, in his book, and he was teased for a few more minutes, Barsad offering suggestions of where to touch next, places he'd discovered earlier, even so briefly. He was good, though; each place he directed Bane to made John squirm, made his breathing quicken, heated his blood until he whined in complaint, not wanting any more of the sensation if it wasn't going to go further. "No more, please..."

They both had the utter indecency to laugh. Jerks. It wasn't funny.

"And what do you wish me to do instead?" Bane asked, amusement in his voice.

"Whatever you're planning for the three of us, I don't care, just stop teasing. I hate teasing." He swallowed back the irritable grumble that was ready to follow, knowing it was unproductive, and not wanting to start a fight; fight sex was okay and all, but he had no chance against Bane in a fight. None.

"Okay, John," Barsad broke in. He didn't say another word, only leaned in to steal John's mouth for a kiss, and it was a strange thing to be kissing one guy with the arms of another holding him in place, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. Especially when those arms were a secure hold, making it feel less strange to be the one not in control at all. It didn't really make sense to him, but his cock was interested, and he did want to feel Barsad again, so he went with it.

Going with it was the best thing he could have done, because Bane's hand finally found his dick. Long, strong fingers slipped around his length, not squeezing, but giving a light pressure that was much more of a hello. Then there were two hands on him, and he realized through the haze of kisses that Barsad had taken hold along with him.

When he finally came back up for air again, Barsad was watching him closely, intently. "God," he swore. "You two do this a lot? Tag-team people?"

The question got him a chuckle. "There have been other times, yes," Barsad replied, "though not so often as you might think."

"Lemme guess," he started dryly, "just the special ones."

"Yes, actually." There was none of the usual sarcasm in Barsad's voice, and he looked sincere. A hand ran down his chest, over his stomach, a familiar touch, less playful. "I think you are special, and Bane already agrees with me. I described you weeks ago."

That made him pause, and even in the weird situation, he smiled, because that meant that Barsad had been checking him out for as long as he'd been checking Barsad out. It was a good feeling, being wanted, attractive. He knew he was good enough looking, and was fine with his body, but having an actual, desirable person want him back the same way couldn't be beat for a self-esteem boost.

"Really?" he asked, still smiling. "Even then?"

"Even then, yes," Barsad confirmed. "However I may seem, I do not make a practice of sleeping with men the moment I see them." John laughed, and he continued, "I like to get to know them first, to see if they are special enough for Bane to enjoy, as well." Leaning in conspiratorially, he finished, "Those are my favorites." Something in his tone made John shiver, even having already had him earlier. He looked different when backed up by the other guy.

A pinch to Barsad's neck made him stop, and that was the end of conversation. The gaming chair and floor were abandoned in favor of Barsad's bed, small as it was.

"We can take turns, at first," Barsad explained. At first? He didn't have time to question it much before he was pressed onto the mistress, Bane's nose barely touching his.

"May I kiss you, John?"

He hesitated, startled that a man Bane's size would be asking permission to do almost anything, but he was glad for it even so; it was reassuring.

So he nodded, voicing an okay, and then felt the warm, firm press of Bane's lips on his own. He felt different from Barsad, though both felt good instantly. The feel of Bane was heavier, fittingly, and John could feel the places where his lips were laced over with small scars. They were still soft, they still wrapped over John's with a commanding grace, and when they parted, his tongue slid between them and over John's with the same. He couldn't wind his fingers through Bane's hair, it was too short-cropped, but he slipped his hand over his head anyway, rubbed at his scalp lightly as he returned the kiss.

Bane lowered himself down flush against John's body, heated and heavy, enclosing him. His touch was different from Barsad's, less playful, more firm, and he kneaded his fingers in places. After a moment or two, John's leg was drawn up, and one of those thick, strong hands ran down the underside of his thigh, cupping over his ass before sliding a pair of fingers boldly over his entrance.

He jumped at the sudden sensation, though he had pretty much figured that Bane wasn't the kind of guy to bottom. But the fingers left him, his leg was set down, and Bane pulled back from his mouth to murmur something to Barsad that John couldn't quite make out.

He smirked, though, and nodded. "Of course," he answered whatever the question had been. Reaching beside them, he came back with lube and a condom, and John couldn't stop a small squirm of anticipation. Bane looked pretty thick, and he also seemed like the kind of guy who could put it to its best use.

As he suspected, a slick finger found its way to stroke over his hole, teasingly at first and then firmly, dipping inside with added pressure. John kept his breathing steady, but a moan escaped his throat when that delving finger twisted just right inside of him, stroking, slicking him up properly. It was a practiced hand.

It left him quickly enough, however, and John watched with some fascination as Barsad rolled a condom over Bane's cock for him, stroking lubricant onto it, flexing his fingers over the length of it, winking at John when he caught him watching.

"Does it look nice, John?" he asked, hand still working over Bane, gathering more slick to continue. "Do you want it inside of your ass, now?" Not fair, Barsad hadn't talked dirty like that before, and the sight of the curve of his mouth letting the words slip out so relaxed, so casually, was maddening. He'd had no idea what he was getting himself into with this one, and he considered himself a pretty damn good judge of character; he could spot the freaks, the predators, the kinky guys. Barsad, though, he had just thought was the sweet kind of guy who was animated in bed, fun trying new things with, not necessarily the one teaching him those new things, and not with a huge third.

"You sound too used to asking a guy that," he grated out past the second groan Bane was pulling from him. "How often do you two do this? Have you fucked other guys here on campus, too?"

Barsad seemed to consider whether or not he wanted to answer at first. "A couple, over my time," he finally said, seeming amused by it.

"Anyone I know—" he was cut off by a sharp moan brought on by Bane twisting a second finger into him roughly, making focusing on words way too much work.

"You may interrogate him after," Bane chided, taking hold of himself to ease the slick head up to John's entrance. "Not now."

After that, he wasn't thinking about anything but the feeling of Bane sliding into him, the welcome burn as he was stretched to accommodate, and then the slick motion as he thrust his hips. It was slower at first, both of them adjusting to each other's bodies, but soon Bane was speeding his rhythm, leaning more of his body over John's for better leverage, and both of their breath became rough with pants and grunts.

Barsad watched from beside them, though not idly. It only took him a few moments before he had his own cock in his hand, fingers still slick from having prepared Bane for John and slipping over his hardening length with ease. John wanted to watch that, it was hot to watch someone work themselves over, but he found it too hard to focus, his eyes not wanting to stay open as his body was shot through with the pleasure of Bane rutting into him. He settled for trying to single out Barsad’s breathing from Bane's and his own, listening for that hitch that told him Barsad was getting worked up as he watched them. He could hear it, at last, and it was that same moment that Bane bent further forward, laying out his body over John's even as he still rocked his hips in a firm motion, trapping John's dick between them. He didn't mind that at all; the movement was a constant friction, rubbing him off even while his ass was getting attention.

John lay his head back against the mattress, mouth open to try to get more air, his hands finding their way to clutch at Bane's arms, fingers pressing into the muscle when he nearly growled above him, his breathing stilted and quickened.

"Y-yes," John gasped, "d-do it... come!" He wasn't the ordering type, really, but he wanted him to snap those hips forward, to drive him into the bed, to set him over the edge.

Bane relented, his mouth down at John's shoulder, and he could feel the scrape of teeth against his skin as Bane thrust forward roughly, pressing him down so tightly. John's back arched up against the bulk of him even though he couldn't go anywhere with that weight on him, and he gasped sharply as he shot out between their stomachs.

He lay there, trapped under the mass of him, and through the haze, the stars in his vision, he couldn't believe he'd nearly passed up the opportunity.

"Rest, John," Barsad rasped out, cleaning off his hand. John realized he had missed seeing him go off, but he'd had his own to worry about, there would be other times, at least he hoped.

"Rest?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "You don't want a turn?" He wanted him to, whether it was his or Barsad's ass getting the turn. He just needed a couple of moments.

Barsad chuckled, reaching his clean hand to run through John's hair, so familiar a motion, almost fond. "Oh I do," he reassured him. "I will have you when you've caught your breath." He leaned down, capturing John's mouth for a swift, heated kiss before pressing his lips to John's ear. "I want you at your best again so that I can tear you apart."

John shuddered, groaning out at his cheek. Then he smacked his shoulder, chuckling breathlessly.

"Jerk," he panted out, "I'm always at my best."


End file.
